Just another diamond day
Just a blade of grass
Just another bale of hay
And the horses pass.
– Vashti Bunyan
You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you.
You have to go to them sometimes.
– Winnie The Pooh
***
The story of Vashti Bunyan is an unusual one.
She entered swinging London as a young, blue-eyed singer-songwriter in the late ’60s, briefly glimpsing into a world of stardom, until she went out on the road for a couple of years in search for paradise – and released one sole album that existed totally off the radar for 30 odd years.
Bunyan didn’t know anything about the growing cult around her music until she googled herself one day in the early 2000s, inspiring her to step back into to the spotlight with another set of gorgeous songs in 2005. Now, almost ten years later, she is back with her third album in 35 years. It is as if times stands still around Vashti Bunyan and her tender, graceful music.
I talked with this unique artist about her unique career, walking with her from the early days all the way until today and her new album.
Beginnings
– My father was a great lover of recorded classical music, which was always playing in our home, says Vashti when being asked about her family background.
– I was the youngest of three – and was referred to as ‘the arty one‘ – because unlike my sister I did badly at school, drew and painted a lot and sang to myself each night before sleeping. My older brother especially was very supportive of my wanting to write songs and sing – and he recorded my songs himself in the mid-sixties. He thought no one else could ever capture my sound the way he could.
Bunyan, born in 1945, grew up in London, and studying at Ruskin School of Drawing and Fine Art in Oxford where she eventually got kicked out for failing to attend classes, having been ‘wasting’ her time writing songs and playing the guitar. In the summer of ’63, 18 years old Vashti visited her sister in New York, where she discovered the sheer brilliance of Bob Dylan and his then brand new Freewheelin’ album. In it she found a sound that would change her life forever:
– Having had a somewhat sheltered post-war upbringing but knowing that there was a whole world out there that I ached to find out about – the songs on The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan opened my eyes to a world so different to mine, one that I wanted to be part of and understand. It sowed the seeds for my romantic notion of becoming a wandering musician.
Bunyan returned to London, determined to become a pop singer. Andrew Loog Oldham, manager for the Rolling Stones, took notice of her and handed her the Jagger/Richards-penned song “Some Things Just Stick in Your Mind.” The release went unnoticed by the larger public, and Bunyan herself returned to her original, quieter ideals of making music. She did a couple more recordings, but gradually lost her dream of becoming a pop star, pursuing divergent path instead – this time by horse and buggy.
– It didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to – I didn’t succeed in bringing quiet acoustic songs into the mainstream. When I met art student Robert Lewis, our likeminded thoughts and dreams led to a plan to escape the city and head for what we hoped would be a more meaningful life. We intended to make our actual days the picture, the painting, the song, says Vashti on what would become an almost two year long journey across Britain, on their way to Skye.
In Search of Eden
Around that time Donovan, wealthy from the success of his hit songs like “Sunshine Superman” and “Catch The Wind,” had bought three remote Scottish islands in the Inner Hebrides, near the Isle of Skye, in order to build up an artistic commune. The couple finally reached their destination, only to find that Donovan had lone ago fled his visionary project.
– I learned more on that journey than I could have any other way. I refer to it every day even now in my thinking – in some way or other. The differences in people and the humanity we found as well as the hostility we realized that traveling people experience. Also the fact that we were able to live on so little – and that we came to recognize our responsibility for other creatures. So much so that they became just as important to us as our human companions.
The late 1960s was a period when many artists fled the cities, returning ‘back to nature’ in search of of inner peace and the discovery of a more truthful life. The concept of a more pure, down-to-earth music form went hand-in-hand with this idealism.
– Looking back I can only speak for myself as I was not involved with any other musicians at the time. For me the promise of remote places that had been abandoned and were waiting to be lived in by anyone willing to go without electricity or mains water – that was the appeal. Having not been able to make a living from music my only other choice seemed to be a ‘day-job’ – but I was too restless for that. And so perhaps living in places that others undervalued became a movement of its own – for artists especially.
Do you feel now, or did you feel then, that something has been lost in the interplay between modern life and something basic in us as humans?
– No I don’t feel it has been lost. It has been added to by other layers of possibilities and exchange of ideas and information. We are still human and still have the same choices between greed and generosity.
In his book Electric Eden, author Rob Young writes of Bunyan’s music “reveals many of the contradictory impulses that shape the British artistic imagination: craving the freedom and peace of a countryside that is already shaped and manicured.”
How do you see yourself and your music fit into such a description?
– On that journey I learned the realities of the ‘country living’ that I – as an urban child – had so romanticised. I came to understand that the little sheepies were going to be slaughtered, that the low moaning of the cows at night was because their calves had been taken from them, that the fields were being poisoned and that the fish were dying. I still wrote songs as if this were not happening – in order to comfort myself more than anything. The shepherd and shepherdess in “Rose Hip November” were more a picture from an old blue-and-white china plate than from real people.
The folk scene in those transitional days were torn between a new, progressive direction and a more traditional, purist form. Did you associate with either of those mentalities in those days, or were you more of an outsider?
– I was never a part of the folk scene and so now when I am referred to as a folksinger I bristle and complain bitterly ’till everyone around me sighs and looks at the ceiling.
Bunyan smiles, and continues,
– Before I left London with a horse, a dog and a boyfriend I had been recording with Andrew Loog Oldham and making my songs into what I’d hoped would enter the pop charts of the day. It didn’t happen and I left in a sulk – and vowed never to set foot in a recording studio again. Joe Boyd changed all that.
Diamond Days
She encountered Joe Boyd through a friend while on the road.
Boyd was a keystone figure in British music at the time, especially in the bourgeoning folk scene. He worked with Nick Drake, Fairport Convention, The Incredible String Band and countless others, including the debut album of Vashti Bunyan, a collection of her traveling songs, released as Just Another Diamond Day in 1970.
– Joe was unusual as a producer in that he really cared about the musicians he worked with. Coming from the States I think he had quite a rosy view of traditional British folk music, but recognized that there were young people making more of it than had been made before – unique musicians like Fairport Convention, and The Incredible String Band. That was difficult for me as it wasn’t really what I was up to – I was not traditional in any way.
Have you talked to Boyd about this later?
– Yes, when I saw Joe recently he said he understood now that he had been wrong to bring in folk musicians for Just Another Diamond Day and that it is his fault that I am still referred to as a folk singer. But in his defense, he said, he did visit me when I was living a life that was more ‘folky’ than any folk singer he knew, in that I was living in a field with a horse and a dog. And a boyfriend.
And through Joe Boyd, you also met Nick Drake?
– That’s true. Joe wanted me to meet up with Nick Drake at his house and try to write something together. I’d had a baby by then who cried every time I picked up my guitar. Nick’s shoulders went higher and higher as he sat at an old upright piano – and we exchanged not a word. I had not heard Nick’s songs at that time – I had no record-player – and I am sure he hadn’t heard mine – and we were both too shy and individual to be able to work together. I have never been able to work well with others on writing ever since.
Just Another Diamond Day received good reviews, but went largely unnoticed to the public. And Vashti Bunyan went away, again. This time for good, spending the next decades peacefully and privately, raising her children and living a quiet life.
Rebirth
30 years down the road she suddenly discovered that her album had turned into a cult item among connoisseurs and collectors, and her style being cherished among a new generation of artists.
Devendra Banhart, Joanna Newsom and other praised Just Another Diamond Day as a forgotten masterpiece. Once again she came back from the shadows, now heralded as a consequential figure from the ’60s.
What was it like to learn your music was so vital in inspiring a new generation of artists?
– Unreal and strange after so many years in a musical wilderness of my own choosing. My overwhelming thought was ‘if only they had been around back then’.. they would have understood what I was trying to do.
You’ve been called the ‘Godmother of Freak Folk’ for your influence. How do you feel about this title?
– Oh dear. A fairy dress and wings – I think not! And I don’t think I was such an influence – I think those young musicians made a place for me – for which I adore them.
Out of that revival, you returned to the music world to release a new record, Lookaftering, with some help from the musicians you inspired, such as Banhart and Newsom.
What was that experience like?
– As if in a dream – mostly going over my head. I had written the songs, made the demos and had arranged a lot of the instrumentation – but Max Richter who produced the album knew what to do where I really did not. However he taught me as we went along, included me in decision making every step of the way and I am forever grateful to him, for Lookaftering could not have been made without him. Devendra Banhart, Joanna Newsom, Adem, Adam Pierce and Robert Kirby all contributed so good-heartedly and looked after me so well.
Your music has been covered by many artists – Devendra, Fever Ray, Feist and Ben Gibbard, to name a few. Do you have any favourite reinterpretation of your songs?
– I love Fever Ray’s version of “Here Before.” It made me fall off my chair when I first heard it. In a quite different way I also like Norwegian singer Moddi’s version of “Train Song,” and Beautify Junkyards’ “Rose Hip November.”
Heartleap
Heartleap is your third album, and your first in nine years. What can you tell us about the album and the process that went into making it?
– Where I had been so sheltered by all the people who helped me make Lookaftering – this time I wanted to take what I had learned and try to understand the process for myself. I had always been fascinated by recorded music but not until I got my hands on music software in 2000 did I get the chance to get the music in my head out into the real world. I don’t read or write music and so it has been a great gift.
You’ve said this is your last album?
– I just feel that it is unlikely that I will make another collection of songs in album form – partly because I am so slow – but also because I am not sure there will be such a format as ‘album’ in however long it would take me to come up with ten more songs. That does not mean I would turn my back on music again – I find the whole process of recording too fascinating now.
– I will, I’m sure, keep making music. No more turning backs.
Bjørn Hammershaug
Opprinnelig publisert på read.tidal.com 5/11 2014.
Some records just blow us away.
Is this what the title of the album is about as well?
A look back at Harmonia: Deluxe (1975), the second album from Krautrock pioneers Harmonia, written in honor of founding member Dieter Moebius, who sadly passed away July 20, 2015, at the age of 71.
Deluxe is the sound of open-minded, free-thinking musical masterminds merging into an entity that’s even greater than the sum of its parts. Effortlessly interweaving shimmering keyboards, soft mechanical beats, and a melodic flow, the album sounds as sweet as a summer’s day. Just 40 minutes in length, but endless in depth and beauty, Deluxe is a timeless piece of music meant for eternity.
Hidden behind this largely unknown band we find three very experienced musicians with different backgrounds: Singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Chris Eckman is best known for fronting Seattle rock band The Walkabouts, and the duo offshoot Chris & Carla. British-Dutch singer-songwriter Chantal Acda is a member of the Isbells and recorded her last solo album, Let Your Hands Be My Guide, with Nils Frahm and Peter Broderick of Efterklang. Next to her and Eckman there’s percussionist and composer Eric Thielemans of the EARR Ensemble.
“I think that in general rock critics aren’t nearly as good at their job as I am at my job. I think that in general rock critics are ignorant of the history of rock music and have no respect for it, or understanding of it, as an art. I think that in general rock critics are lazy and have not thought out what they are doing.”
Birthed from the ashes of the seminal proto-punk group Rocket From the Tombs, they were founded in mid-70’s Cleveland, Ohio, and are still going strong with David Thomas as the sole constant member.
Fast forward to 2015. Pere Ubu has just released the highly-acclaimed Carnival of Souls, their third album in a trilogy inspired by classic films.
What were the driving forces for starting up Rocket from the Tombs, and who were your main influences back then?
Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain was 27 years old when he ended his life in his Seattle home on April 5, 1994 – leaving this earth perhaps the most iconic cultural figure of his time. As Cobain biographer Charles R. Cross emphasized, ‘He isn’t the last star in rock ’n’ roll, but he is the last true Rock Star that we’ve had to date who earned Icon status. He existed in a period that is now lost to history, when a rock artist could be played on all formats of radio, when rock was the dominant musical form.’
Black Sabbath:
Iggy & The Stooges:
Kiss:
Sex Pistols:
Cheap Trick:
Neil Young & Crazy Horse:
Young Marble Giants:
Flipper:
Black Flag:
Hüsker Dü:
Beat Happening:
Killdozer:
Dead Moon:
Pixies:
Melvins:
Dette er en hyllest til noen av anti-legendene i musikkhistorien. Enkelte har særegne og lite konvensjonelle musikalske uttrykk, noen har tragiske livshistorier som har overskygget deres karrierer og atter andre oversette eller glemte talent. Et gjennomgående begrep for de fleste av disse kan være ’Outsider music’, lansert på 1990-tallet av skribent og musikk-historiker Irwin Chusid. Han har viet store deler av sitt liv til å arbeide med musikk på utsiden av normen, definert av ham selv som ’crackpot and visionary music, where all trails lead essentially one place: over the edge.’ Her er over 20 artister som aldri gikk hovedveien, men som beriket (og beriker) musikkhistorien i langt større grad enn deres manglende kommersielle appell skulle tilsi
Hasil ’The Wild Man’ Adkins kom fra fjellsidene i West-Virginia, og startet med musikk på 50-tallet etter å ha hørt Hank Williams på radio. Han gikk ut fra at Hank spilte alle instrumentene selv, og Hasil startet dermed sitt ’one-man band’ som ble hans varemerke gjennom hele karrieren. Takket være entusiastene i Norton Records ble han til sin store overraskelse gjenoppdaget av et ’større’ publikum på 1980-tallet. Billy Miller i Norton minnes flere utrolige episoder med Adkins, mange samlet i høyt anbefalte Incredibly Strange Music vol. 1, som denne fra en opptreden på en klubb i New York: The ceiling fan was whirling around, making a creaky sound, and without missing a lick he reached down, pulled out a gun and shot it down – it was interfering with the song. Norton utga bl.a. samlealbumet Out To Hunch (1986) der vi finner signaturlåta ”She Said”. Hasil Adkins døde i 2005.
The Viking Of Sixth Avenue: Avantgarde-musikeren Moondog – født Louis Hardin – ble først kjent som et landemerke på Manhattan. Fra slutten av 1940-tallet til midten av 70-årene inntok den blinde og skjeggete mannen hver dag Avenue of the Americas for å framføre sin musikk og poesi. Kledd i en hjemmelaget drakt, iført sandaler og vikinghjelm var han utvilsomt litt av et syn på gata. Han kom seg etter hvert over til Tyskland og rakk der å få anerkjennelse som komponist og dirigent. Han ble også respektert i hjemlandet i sine senere år, og hadde en viss innflytelse blant moderne komponister og minimalister som Philip Glass og Steve Reich. Moondog var dessuten instrumentbygger, og stod bak harper han navnga Oo, Ooo-ya-tsu og Hüs (etter vårt eget ’hus’, hans interesse for norrøn kultur var stor). Moondog døde i 1999, 83 år gammel.
Roky Erickson er en levende legende innen garasjerock/psykedelia – men også han med et trøblete liv som i stor grad har overskygget hans artistliv, og som gir ham en plass også på denne lista. Han slo gjennom med Texas-bandet 13th Floor Elevators i 1966 og låta ”You’re Gonna Miss Me”. Ericksons flørt med narkotika førte ham til et mentalsykehus (han sa seg utilregnelig for å unngå fengselsstraff etter at han ble tatt for en joint), der han ble erklært schizofren og utsatt for omfattende elektrosjokk-behandling i løpet av sine tre år bak sykehusveggene. Livet til Erickson – både som menneske og artist – ble lagt i ruiner, og han endte opp som en kulthelt blant de få mens han selv måtte klare seg på en spinkel trygd. Fra begynnelsen av 90-tallet ble han gradvis gjenoppdaget av en ny generasjon musikere og fans, og han fikk dessuten etterlengtet god behandling for første gang i sitt liv. I dag er han tilbake som en aktet og anerkjent musiker, dog noe redusert i adferden.
Syd Barrett stod bak et av historiens aller største band, men forsvant etter hvert inn i et mer tåkete landskap enn den som førte til stjernene. Hans oppførsel innad i Pink Floyd, trigget av ekstensiv bruk av LSD, ble etter såpass merkelig at han måtte forlate bandet etter deres første album.
Musiker og tegner Daniel Johnston er en kulthelt blant både fans og ikke minst mange musikere som har trykket hans personlige, naivistiske poplåter til sitt bryst. Han startet sine hjemme-innspillinger på slutten av 70-tallet, og har holdt det gående mer eller mindre jevnt og trutt siden. Johnston har strevet hele livet med sine mentale problemer, men har også skapt en karriere som har hatt ganske så stor innflytelse, ikke minst innen indie/lo-fi. Han ble et nasjonalt fenomen da MTV fanget ham opp i 1985 (det var på den tiden MTV gjorde slikt), men mange ble nok først oppmerksomme på hans talent med den prisbelønnede og vellagde dokumentaren The Devil and Daniel Johnston (2005).
Et særegent syn; to meter høy, flagrende hår, en gedigen nese og flamboyant stil. Tiny Tim spilte ukulele og sang falsett, og fikk en stor hit på slutten av 60-tallet med ”Tip-Toe Through the Tulips”. Det ble hans eneste smak av særlig suksess, og han tilbrakte resten av sin karriere med å spille på småsteder og jobbe på sirkus. Han ble gjenoppdaget på slutten av 90-tallet, blant annet opptrådde han på Conan O’Brien, men døde av hjerteinfarkt i 1996. På scenen, mens han sang ”Tip-Toe Through the Tulips”.
Notorisk kjent for sitt tilbaketrukne og hemmelighetsfulle liv, denne musikkens svar på J.D Salinger eller Thomas Pynchon. Det vi vet om ham: Født Sterling Smith, bosatt i Houston, Texas og har utgitt noe sånt som 70 album med særegen folk/blues siden slutten av 70-tallet. Han har gitt to intervjuer i sitt liv. Fram til 2004 var han knapt noe mer enn en anonym postboks, men da kom dokumentaren Jandek On Corwood (ref hans plateselskap) og han begynte så smått med å turnere i mindre skala. Uten at vi vet så mye mer om gåtefulle Jandek av den grunn.
Svensk Elvis-imitator som ikke sang spesielt bra. Og som ikke behersket engelsk så godt. Og som ikke lignet noe særlig på Elvis. Og som mest av den grunn i noen år ble enormt populær kultfavoritt her i Skandinavia.
Sangerinne fra Langevåg som slo gjennom med et brak blant ironigenerasjonen midt på 90-tallet, da hun gjorde sin versjon av ”Hurra for deg…” Olga Marie Mikalsen debuterte i godt voksen alder, på slutten av 60-tallet, og framførte sin spesielle lyriske alt i noen av verdens store konsertsaler. Men for de fleste vil hun nok helst forbindes med en reklamefilm for Solo. Olga Marie uttalte at hun aldri øvde (’har man det, så har man det’), og skapte seg en karriere med akkurat det som utgangspunkt. Hun gikk bort i 2006, 91 år gammel.
I 1981 var David Greenberg ansatt som pleier ved Duplex Nursing Home i Boston, der han ved en anledning overhørte en pasient ved navn Jack Mudurian som påsto at han kunne synge like mange sanger som Frank Sinatra. Minst. Greenberg tok ham på ordet, brakte med seg en opptaker og trykket record. Mudurian klarte å synge 129 sanger sammenhengende i løpet av 47 minutter. Opptakene ble utgitt i 1996, og det er unødvendig å si at albumet ble en instant kultfavoritt.
Runddans is the result of the rather unlikely collaboration between 1970s pop-wizard Todd Rundgren, space-disco pioneer Lindstrøm and free-spirited sound-magician Emil Nikolaisen of Serena-Maneesh. The foundation of this project was laid back in 2012, when Rundgren did a remix of Lindstrøm’s “Quiet Place To Live.” The three musicians met in a studio in Oslo that same year, and the music slowly mushroomed from there.
The eponymous Runddans is a cosmic mix of soul, synth, pop and disco – meant to be enjoyed as one whole piece: 39 minutes of music, broken down into 12 parts and 4 sides of an LP. Journalist Paul Lester (Mojo, The Guardian) described the experience as ‘dense, complex, thrillingly intricate yet sweepingly emotional, here the original laptop kid and the Norwegian electronicists capture a long-lost time while also managing to sound utterly future-perfect.’
The highly eclectic Rundgren, the most renowned of the three, has been active since the late 1960s, both as a musician and a producer. He rose to fame in the early 1970s thanks to magnum opuses like Runt (1971), Something/Anything (1972) and A Wizard, A True Star (1973). Through the ’70s and ‘80s Rundgren also gained a reputation as a prime producer, working on seminal albums like Meat Loaf’s Bat Out of Hell, XTC’s Skylarking and New York Dolls’ self-titled debut.
Emil Nikolaisen, known as frontman to the indie-shoegazers Serena-Maneesh, as well as a heavy repertoire of production work, shared some of the same sentiments on Rundgren.
Lindstrøm tells how this was clear pretty early on: – I think we became aware of that early in the process. The foundation of music bites its own tail, so to speak, being repetitive and ascending at the same time. We understood that wasn’t a bunch of songs, but an exhaustive piece of music – an endless roundel.
2014 was a great year for London-based electronica trio Years & Years.
What’s your view on the album format? Do you think of it more like a set of songs in a row or do you consider the album more as one piece, a unique entity?
The Big Beast 